


Handle With Care

by LeraOmo (Lera_Myers)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Diapers, F/M, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Mass Effect Kink Meme, Omorashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 17:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5793340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lera_Myers/pseuds/LeraOmo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard doesn't understand why Miranda never spends the night in his cabin. At the worst possible time, she ends up revealing it by mistake: she never managed to outgrow wetting the bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handle With Care

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so apparently I've become that person who writes lots of Miranda omo, haha. Going to find some different types of prompts to fill now that this is done.
> 
> Written for [this prompt](http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/9115.html?thread=44545435#t44545435) at the Mass Effect Kink Meme.

Even if Miranda hadn’t had access to dossiers of everyone on board, it would have been easy for her to figure out who had served on a ship before solely based on the way they dealt with a lack of privacy. The shyest of the group were those anxious about communal bathrooms, the ones who tried to pin down off-peak times so they could shower in privacy (as if nudity were something to be ashamed of, the XO thought with an amused smile). On the flip side, the most experienced crew members were the ones not suffering chronic sexual frustration, even more difficult now with an AI capable of seeing everywhere and everything at once. And then, at the top of the totem pole, were the two members lucky enough to have their own offices.

She hadn’t been sure at first just how much Shepard valued his considerably large cabin. He certainly didn’t seem to spend an abnormal amount of time in it, at least. That had changed delightfully not too long ago. It had been less than two months since they’d first slept together, and in that time, they’d both discovered the thrills of having such a large recreational area and a bed to match. And combining it with two healthy libidos meant discovering it over and over and over again.

It was, in short, a very enjoyable relationship. The only part Miranda didn’t enjoy was dragging herself from his bed (often on legs still shaky from a good orgasm) and departing to spend the night in her own sleeping quarters. At first, the commander’s protests were rooted in anxiety - “What’s wrong, did you not like it?” - but now they were simply reflexive, bursting out whenever she pulled away to redress.

“If you stayed to appreciate it, we could have a ‘good morning’ followup,” he’d point out as she stepped into her panties, his pitch dropping a little with seduction.

She’d twist to slide her arms through the straps of her bra. “Both of us know you’re on too tight of a schedule to allow that, Shepard.”

He’d chuckle and wink at her. “I dunno, didn’t seem ‘too tight’ before…”

At that point she’d send a pillow flying at him biotically, making them both dissolve into laughter. It gave her time to get the rest of her clothes on.

“One of these days I’m gonna figure out how to wake up with the galaxy’s most beautiful woman in my arms, you know.”

She’d pause by the door, smile sweetly, and blow him a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning, love.”

Then it would be off to her own bed, even as his delicious scent still clung to her. Relationship or not, she wasn’t interested in having Shepard find out why his XO was grateful for _her_ private sleeping quarters. Even with genetically-engineered perfection in the picture, everyone had problems they weren’t too eager to share. And Miranda had reason to believe that if the commander ever learned hers, he’d call an end to their relationship - something she didn’t want even if she wasn’t entirely sure what the two of them being together meant yet.

It didn’t _bother_ her exactly that she still wet the bed every night, Lawson reflected as she stripped and found her pajamas. The only thing it really necessitated was slipping on a pair of absorbent briefs (a diaper, if you wanted to be crude about it) before sleeping and disposing of it in the morning. But since she’d gotten to know Shepard so intimately, all of it was getting to her more than it had in years.

She’d tried to stop it more times than she could remember, but nothing seemed to work. The moisture-sensitive alarms she slept through, the medications that left her with throbbing headaches, the attempts to wake up in the middle of the night and relieve herself that her body always beat her to. She’d even tried cutting out caffeine entirely a few days ago, having read that it irritated the bladder. _That_ had been decidedly unhelpful. She’d actually dozed off in the mess hall around 2100. Shepard had come by later on and shaken her awake, making panic alarms go off in her head until she’d regained enough clarity to realize she was (thank God) dry.

In the past, she’d had flashes of hope, a morning or two here and there where she’d woken up with her bladder full rather than her diaper. But it had never been more than a couple of days a month, sometimes not even that often. So it was strange when she found herself waking up dry even as infrequently as once a week - and for multiple reasons, too, given that their trip through the Omega-4 relay was drawing closer. She’d always had the opposite reaction to stress in the past, sometimes bad enough to wake up soaked through her briefs and pajamas both. Still, although the change was inexplicable, it was far from unwelcome. Miranda certainly wasn’t going to argue about how she kicked the habit as long as it happened one day.

So when the commander’s requests for her to stay the night became more insistent, the idea was becoming more and more appealing. Honestly, she hadn’t been sure how she’d pull herself away the evening before the supposed suicide mission without coming off as cruel, and the only other option she could think of would be staying awake all night (which wouldn’t do, given that everyone needed to be in top shape the next day). Telling him no on an ordinary day was just routine, but telling him no even the week before they were due to set off made a little part of Miranda ache as well. By the time she could count the days until their attack on one hand, it took every ounce of willpower in her not to crawl under the covers with him and stay there even before he asked.

The night before their mission broke her resolve, as she’d sort of predicted. Well, not really _sort of._ She’d known even as she was setting things up that they’d be spending the night wrapped in each other’s arms, but kept up a steady denial to herself. And so she told herself it wouldn’t happen as she stepped out of the elevator, not-so-accidentally running right into him. His hands caressing her gently, arms around her - such strong arms, and though she had rebuilt them not long ago, she was still able to marvel at how good they felt.

_”We could all be dead this time tomorrow. So if it’s not worth it…“_

Told herself it would work out as she stood waiting for the engine room door to hiss open, shivers of anticipation running along her body -

_”What are you so afraid of?”_

As he helped peel that jumpsuit off her hips -

_”I only settle for the best.”_

It had been wonderful, letting him drive all conscious thought out of her head. Absolutely wonderful. She loved every second of that evening, and by the time they were through, she could barely think.

Almost on autopilot, she redressed as usual - but they did it together this time, putting on just enough clothes to walk through the ship without question. Through the haze of hormones still working their magic on her brain, combined with the mild doses of adrenaline that would not stop coming, Miranda did not quite make a conscious effort to figure out what was going on until her back touched the mattress in the captain’s cabin.

“This is a nice surprise,” he whispered in her ear, arms winding around her hips. “I mean…really nice.”

“Mm.” The sound was almost evasive. Even as Lawson’s brain tried frantically to get into gear and solve this problem, her expression revealed nothing. Thanks to her exhaustion, it required next to no effort.

They’d gotten into their nightclothes at some point, she realized with a glance downward. She didn’t even remember doing that. Well, her in her nightclothes minus the usual protection around her crotch. Her heart fluttered at the realization that were she diapered, it would be immediately obvious to her partner. Shepard may not have looked it, but he was a cuddler, and she could feel the heat of his pelvis pressed against hers through their thin pajamas. Even if she somehow managed to slip away and put on a pair of briefs, there was no way he wouldn’t notice the extra padding.

As though noticing her anxiety, he brought a hand up to stroke through her hair. “Hey, just…let’s just do one night, okay? Just promise me I can have one night holding you…”

“Shepard…”

Miranda paused to silently reassure herself. Things _had_ been much better recently - she’d been dry the last three nights in a row, a record streak for her. Surely a fourth wouldn’t be too hard. Not to mention they were getting up earlier than usual tomorrow, so it wouldn’t even be as many hours of sleep. And…well, she just wanted to not worry about this for tonight, damn it. She was comfortable, and she felt good, and it suddenly felt like such a long, cold trek back to her own cabin.

And it could all be over tomorrow anyway.

“What’s wrong?” Shepard’s voice interrupted her thoughts; she didn’t miss the worried edge to his question.

“Of course I’ll stay,” she heard herself answer, silencing the doubts that still lingered in her mind. Miranda patted the hand resting on her hipbone, gently nudging it off. “Just give me a chance to brush my teeth. I promise I’ll be back.”

He relaxed into the mattress even as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Don’t keep me waiting.” Although his tone was playful, his eyes held all the thanks she needed - enough to make her heart swell in her chest a little. Damn it, Shepard was making her soft.

The tooth-brushing excuse, at least, gave her a chance to make sure her bladder was empty before she returned to his bed. No sooner had her head touched the pillow that he tugged her close once more. It was, she realized, incredibly comforting to know she’d get to fall asleep like this: their shared body heat warming her, his breath at her neck, his strong form curled protectively around her.

Her eyelids were heavy, and she smiled as she closed them. It was just one night…she’d be fine for one night…

For the most part, her sleep was thankfully dreamless. She’d been worried there might be nightmares waiting for her, given what was coming tomorrow. But even when dreams did arrive in the early morning, they were surprisingly pleasant. The first image she got wasn’t unlike a memory: the commander standing on a balcony with her form pressed against him. He’d looped his arms around her waist, and she’d done the same with hers around his shoulders. And then - she was only vaguely aware of it - some light sprinkles of rainwater coming down on them.

Miranda had never _actually_ kissed someone in the rain before, she’d realize later. Perhaps it was more enjoyable than it sounded. It certainly appeared often enough in those trashy romance novels she’d never admit to reading.

Shepard’s hands were in her hair now, his mouth searching for access to her neck. Her lips pressed against his cheek, first to nuzzle the stubble there, then to whisper little terms of endearment. Somewhere along the line, the rain had stopped falling. They were waist-deep in ocean water, both of them, but it didn’t feel like ocean water. For one thing, it was much too warm, almost scalding in places, and -

_Wait - **warm**?!_

In the bed, her muscles clenched desperately and she fought her way back to consciousness. One hand groped blindly for where the nightstand should have been so she could turn on the light and run to the lavatory, if it wasn’t already too late.

And then, feeling nothing but air against her palm, she came fully awake and realized she wasn’t by herself…but cuddled up with the commander, the sheets below them drenched and letting off a very telltale smell. In a panic, she wriggled out of his embrace. Her wakeup must have been just a minute or two overdue; the wet seat of her pajama pants was still cooling.

 _No, no, no…!_ There - there had to be a way to save face here, right? Or at least do something? After so many years of wearing the diapers at night, Miranda had forgotten how much of a mess going without would create. Her nightclothes were soaked from navel to mid-thigh, and she hadn’t even gotten a look at the sheets yet.

Lawson wriggled further out of the way, bracing herself before she drew back the comforter to examine her puddle. It didn’t prepare her for the horror that struck upon realizing Shepard’s pants were damp where they touched the sheets. Oh, why had it seemed like a good idea to stay tonight? She should have known.

That train of thought was cut short when he stirred, making her heart rate pick up even further, and his lips formed a groggy version of her name. “Miranda? What’s…?”

His hand, she realized as her cheeks flushed - it had landed on the wetness. Her mind screamed, begging her to do _something_ to make this even the tiniest bit less mortifying. But she was frozen, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as she watched him.

He knew what had happened. That much was obvious in the way he kicked off the covers and glanced first at his own front. Then his gaze moved to her, catching the wet spot immediately. It was all but impossible to miss.

“Miranda, did you…?”

The XO had her face halfway buried in her hands, but it didn’t keep her from feeling his eyes on her. “Shepard,” she croaked. “I - I’m so sorry, I - “

“Hey.” It was gentler than she’d expected. She felt the mattress shift, heard it creak as he edged away from the spot she’d peed. “Come on, Miri, you look like you think I’m about to hit you.”

Almost sheepish at that, she lowered her hands, but didn’t dare make eye contact with him. “I’m incredibly sorry,” she managed to say again. “It - I didn’t mean to…”

“Look, I…” He cleared his throat, and now that she looked back at him, it was obvious he was trying hard not to look at her soaked outfit. “Don’t worry about it. Pretty sure everyone’s pissed the bed as an adult a time or two.”

She had to tell him everything now. There was no way out of it. Her hands crept up to her shoulders, hugging herself. “It’s…” she tried vaguely. “I mean, that’s not…that isn’t what I…well…”

His hand came to rest on her forearm gently. “Unless - this is why you haven’t been staying the night? Because it’s not just once or twice?”

Every muscle in Miranda’s body wanted to pull away, run, and hide until it was all over. She had to force herself to stay put, fiddling with her sleeves in order to keep her hands occupied. “I didn’t think it would be an issue tonight,” the XO admitted, her voice barely audible. “Normally I use some type of…protection. But…”

Shepard rested his hand on her shoulder as she trailed off. “‘But’ what?” he probed, still gentle as ever.

Her face burned. “But I didn’t want you to get the impression I couldn’t handle myself.” It was nearly a whisper.

In one motion, he was behind her, tugging her upper body closer - though he kept her clear of his lap (understandably, she thought). “Miranda.” It was just one word, but somehow it said everything she needed to hear.

Another pause, and then he spoke again. “It’s almost time to get up anyway. Why don’t you go shower? I’ll handle the sheets.”

She nodded, getting to her trembling legs. Both hands moved as if to strip her cold, sodden clothes off, but hesitated at the last second. One of those hands found his outstretched palm, and she met his gaze. There was something intensely vulnerable in her eyes, she knew it.

“Listen,” she began, “whatever happens today, I just want you to know I…”

She couldn’t finish. She didn’t have to. He squeezed her hand gently, offering a smile. “I know,” he said. “So do I.”


End file.
